


Snow

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and the White stuff. Written for The Hobbit Pledge and because it's snowing where I am</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

It wasn't correct, Bilbo thought as they trudged along. Cold was all right, wind was all right, Ice was all right, even snow was fine. But it had to be under the right conditions. Wandering on a rough, stumble trip path, behind a group of dwarves and a wizard, none of whom could care less about his suffering. Gandalf was quite literally above it all and the dwarves were of stocky enough build to just plough on through, pretty much heedless of whatever was going on. He was the only one who struggled along. His jacket and shirt offered little protection from the cold, his trousers were soaked and he was starting to shiver seriously. But He doubted they noticed. _Brr,_ he hated this weather when there was no escape. Now if he was back in Bag End it would be a different matter.

He'd be in his hobbit-hole, tucked in his favourite armchair with his feet on a settle, a mug of hot tea to curl his fingers around and a roaring fire in the grate. A fire that would dance gold patterns on those snug round walls. Patterns that suggested adventure, but of the nicest kind. The kind that involved only shutting your eyes to wander for miles, seeing so much without ever a risk of Goblins, strange creatures, loss of handkerchiefs or trolls. Quite a proper adventure for a respectable hobbit. And then, when you'd eaten a perfectly respectable tea with respectable strange folk, you need only shut your eyes and you'd be back in bag-end, to the soft chair, settle, tea and roaring fire, with snow flitting outside the window and turning everything white.

_Mmm_ He could almost feel the warmth of the fire, the mug of warm tea. The chair, so snug on his back. He found himself burrowing into it, wriggling away from the cold that must be blowing through an open window. In a moment he'd get up and shut it, but now he just wanted to enjoy the warmth that was still there

"Hobbit! Hobbit!"

"Wake up Master Burgler. Wake up" That was a different voice, less authoritative.

"Why we bothered to bring that one along with us" The first voice muttered, clearly bitter

"Bilbo Baggins, wake up at once?

He opened his eyes and blinked blearily, reluctantly focusing his sight to see Bombur and Gandalf above "What?"

The wizard's face was grave "you were asleep in the snow"

And if I was? I was nice and warm in Bag End and you had to wake me"

"We shouldn't have brought him"

Now he identified Thorin and noticed him standing nearby with a glower on his face.

"Should or should not, he's here now and we'll have to make the best of it" With some effort Bombur got him self to his feet and held out a hand "Come Burglar, I'll see you stay awake from now on."

He sighed and accepted pulling himself out of the icy nest he seemed to have made for himself. Yes, this was defiantly not the proper way for a hobbit to experience snow. No fun.

Then, with a smile, he bent and scooped at the white stuff that surrounded his thighs, patted it into a ball and threw

"MASTER BAGGINS!"


End file.
